Lahat ng Kabanata ng Tamed By The Devil Stepbrother : Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Nolan’s POV She slammed the door, but the echo of it only fueled the chaos in my chest. Clara thought she had escaped, thought she had the upper hand just because she managed to run up a flight of stairs and hide behind a flimsy piece of wood. The sound reverberated through the narrow hallway, a sharp crack that mimicked the fracture in my composure. I could still feel the heat of her body pressed against the wall, the way her chest rose and fell in rapid bursts, her defiance a thin veil over the fear—and something else—that simmered beneath. But she was wrong. So fucking wrong. I leaned against the banister, tilting my head back, closing my eyes against the dim glow of the overhead light. Her scent still lingered on me—fresh soap from her evening shower, the faint graphite dust from her sketchbook that always seemed to dust her fingertips, and something warmer, sweeter, like vanilla laced with the subtle musk of her skin. It clung like a stain I couldn’t wash off, no matter how ma

Clara’s POV The door clicked shut, a soft, final sound that echoed in my ears like a gunshot in the dead of night. For a second—maybe longer—I sat frozen on the bed, my whole body trembling as if the air itself had turned against me, thick and oppressive, wrapping around my throat like invisible fingers. The shadows stretched long across the walls, twisting in the moonlight that filtered through the half-drawn curtains, turning my familiar room into something alien, something haunted. And the silence… it returned, but it wasn’t the same silence as before. No, this one was tainted, poisoned by his presence. His cologne lingered faintly in the air—sharp, masculine, with that underlying note of sandalwood that always seemed to cling to him like a second skin. It mixed with the faint acrylic scent from my paints on the desk, creating a nauseating cocktail that made my stomach churn. I pressed my palms hard against my knees, willing them to stop shaking, digging my nails into the fabri

Clara’s POV The university campus sprawled out before me like a chaotic escape hatch from the morning's disaster. The air was crisp with the scent of freshly mowed grass and distant coffee from the student union, but my chest still felt raw, scraped open by Nolan's breakfast ambush. His words clung to me like smoke—*ignoring me only makes me want to play harder*—and I couldn't shake the heat that had crawled up my neck under his gaze. I quickened my pace across the quad, dodging clusters of students laughing over their phones, their carefree energy a stark contrast to the knot in my stomach. If I could just bury myself in a lecture, maybe I could pretend he didn't exist. Maybe I could breathe. The lecture hall for Art History 201 was already buzzing when I slipped through the heavy wooden doors. The room was a cavernous space with tiered seating, faded posters of Renaissance masterpieces plastered on the walls, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Morning chatter echo

Clara’s POV The school day dragged on like a bad dream I couldn’t wake from, each class blending into the next in a haze of lectures and whispers. By the time the last period rolled around—Mr. Hargrove’s history class—I was running on fumes, my mind still replaying the morning’s confrontation with Nolan like a broken record. His words clung to me, sticky and unwelcome, making it hard to focus on anything else. I’d managed to avoid him in the hallways, ducking into crowds and taking detours, but I knew it was only a temporary reprieve. Nolan had a way of showing up exactly when I least wanted him to. I slid into my usual seat near the back of the classroom, hoping for invisibility. The room was filling up slowly, the chatter of students a low hum that did little to drown out my thoughts. I pulled out my notebook, doodling absentmindedly in the margins—swirling patterns that mirrored the chaos in my chest. Anything to keep my mind off him. That’s when Ethan slid into the seat next to

Clara’s POV The alarm pierced the silence like a scream, shrill and merciless, yanking me from the depths of my restless sleep. I groaned, slamming my hand down on the clock to silence it, but the echoes of my dreams clung to me like shadows, refusing to let go. Fragmented visions replayed in my mind—Nolan's mouth hovering too close, his hands pinning me in place, his words twisting like vines around my thoughts, binding guilt and forbidden desire into a knot I couldn't untangle. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, my body heavy with exhaustion, every muscle protesting as if I'd been running all night from something I secretly wanted to catch me. *Why him?* The question burned in my chest, a toxic mix of self-loathing and confusion that made my stomach churn. Nolan wasn't just my stepbrother; he was a storm cloud that had invaded my life, dark and unpredictable, pulling me into currents I didn't know how to navigate. Last night had been a mistake—a dangerous game of p